Exalted In Chicago
by Lord Sia
Summary: A self-insert in a self-insert, the protagonist finds himself summoned to Chicago, Earth, reliving a fanfic. Between a Celestial Exaltation and liberal in-character metagaming, will he be able to avert Armageddon in a World of Darkness? On Hiatus due to lack of Inspiration.
1. Summons and Exaltations

**Exalted In Chicago**

Brought to you by BROB Entertainment™

**Author's Notes & Mandatory Disclaimer**: This fic is heavily inspired, both by copyrighted works (mostly Exalted 2nd Edition and various action movies) and by the multitudes of fanfics and forum threads that I have read. If a reader recognizes something, then I humbly suggest that I have shamelessly and unabashedly plagiarized it, and reject any claim to it what so ever beyond its use in this particular fic.

For those who recognize the theme of the fic, the actual seed of inspiration can be found in "Dungeon Crawl In Chicago", written by LordsFire. I write this with his permission and much-appreciated support, and hope that I do not disappoint him with my take on the concept. I tried to follow his example, but much to my annoyance the rules for Exalted – in particular my favorites, the Lunars - are so muddled so as to be unusable without considerable House Ruling.

The fact that I'm not using house rules in this particular fic is entirely intentional.

**_Warning; this fic is rated M for a reason! It will contain graphic and explicit violence and sex, including gore and possibly rape. The odd filthy word might also slip in._**

So without further ado, I bring to you an Exalted Self-Insert in the Old World of Darkness.

* * *

I was standing in a grey, featureless void. Which was kind of weird, since I don't usually spend time in grey, featureless voids. It didn't quite feel like a dream either - both more and less real at the same time. No matter where I turned, it was all the same – a misty nothingness, neither cold nor warm, not moist and not dry – it was unlike anything I had ever seen or experienced before. I don't know how long I had stood there, trying to figure out what was going on, when my musings were suddenly interrupted by a Voice. No, not just a "voice", it was the kind of Voice that God or Death are said to have in many works of fiction. It shook Reality Itself, not so much "waves-in-air"-sound as "ripples-in-fundamental-existence"-communication. It is hard - impossible, really - to explain, and even harder to do justice. But the basic message was, at the very least, comprehensible.

**WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE POWER?**

It asked, echoing throughout the emptiness. If I did not flinch, it was because the suddenness and the sheer, overpowering _presence_ of the Voice pinned me in place, less like a deer caught in headlights and more like plankton suddenly finding itself being addressed by a whale. The Voice reverberated through my very soul, crushing any thoughts of the whole thing being a dream. I have had life-like dreams and hallucinations, but this was more real than reality – if such a thing can exist.

It might have been a few seconds or a couple of minutes as I stood there, silent and unmoving. The words echoed back and forth through my mind. Would I like to have power? Memories flitted by, years of daydreams, of losing myself in fiction and flights of fancy, distant worlds of epic heroism and mind-numbing horrors. Long hours spent wondering what I would do, if I had the power to do this or the ability to do that. I thought about my own life, the boring classes, the annoying family, the struggle to find a job – any job – to help cover my rent during the summer, that I might not further exhaust my rapidly depleting savings.

Did I want power?

_Hell Yes._

**OH GOODIE.**

The Voice replied gleefully even as I thought my reply, and I had a momentary feeling of Dread, Doom and Inevitable Eternal Suffering. There was just something wrong about that kind of Voice sounding like a bored six-year-old who has just been told his favorite TV show is on.

**ENJOY.**

'… Enjoy what?' I wondered silently as the Presence began to fade away. I felt faint as I realized that the Voice was, if anything, less impressive than the Presence itself. It wasn't like stepping back and seeing that the rock is actually a mountain – it was stepping back and discovering that the rock was actually the continent. My guts churned in rebellion, a sensation that was only enhanced by the hollow emptiness that the Presence left behind as it continued to move away. Suddenly I realized that I was wrong; the Presence was not fading or moving away from me – I was the one moving away from the Presence. Even as the sinking sensation of free fall settled into my guts the Voice reverberated one last time, a half-serious, half-mischievous tone that scared me more than anything I had ever felt before.

**AND GOOD LUCK! YOU'LL NEED IT.**

The words echoed for a moment before I found myself flushed down a cosmic toilet. It was thoroughly unpleasant and violently disorientating. I was spinning a million miles per hour on five different axes. I was tingling like my entire body had fallen asleep and was only now waking up. I was burning and freezing and wet and dry all at once. I was crushed by pressure unlike anything I had ever felt before and I was torn apart by tidal waves of nothingness, swallowed up by the universe and spat out of a singularity. I was...

* * *

... Standing in the middle of a ridiculously complex array of occult symbols, complete with burning wax candles. The floor was cold, made of bare stone, and I could tell because I was apparently standing barefooted. Glancing down I amended my previous statement - I was not barefooted, I was butt-naked, and I looked even more scrawny and anemic than I ever had before. My mind felt fuzzy, as though I was waking up early after pulling an all-nighter. I was distracted from my distracted state - yes, very droll, I know - by a set of words scrolling across my vision.

**Character Creation:**

**Select Spirit Form & Tell**

I blinked in confusion, which led to a discovery that only made me more confused; the words were imprinted on my retinas – even with my eyes closed, I could still see them as clearly as I did with my eyes open. What's more, I could smell the burning candles, I felt the stone under my feet, and I had a foul taste in my mouth, like I usually did in the morning - whatever this was, it was _not_ a dream. It only took me a few moments to recognise the choice as one of the first made when creating my favourite kind of character in my favourite kind of RPG. However, that did not tell me where I was, why I was here, or why I had step one of the Lunar Exalt character creation glowing in my eyes...

My thoughts were interrupted by voice speaking to my right.

"Another failure?" The voice said, and I blearily turned around to see a guy - dressed, it should be added - holding a freaking submachine gun! The alarm I felt at that should have made me instantly awake, but I still felt as though my head was filled with cotton.

"No..." A voice rasped out, slightly hesitant. Turning back forward I saw before me a guy dressed up like an Indian - sorry, Native American - medicine man, standing with his arms raised above his head just outside the ritual circle. Behind him were another two armed men, loosely pointing their guns in my direction. "No;" the man repeated with more conviction. "The summon has not stabilized yet..."

Summon? Stabilise? I was seriously confused, having just had the weirdest not-dream of my life, been pulled through some sort of magical rollercoaster and dumped, naked, in a room full of armed men who were pointing their guns at me. Something about the situation nagged at my mind, but I couldn't place it - there was just something about it that was familiar. Which was rather odd, as I was certain that I would remember any situation even remotely similar. Still, the growing sensation of dread told me that the whole thing was most likely not a dream, however much I might wish for it.

Thinking of wishes, I focused on the words blinking before my eyes. I frowned slightly and focused on the Spirit Form part, only to blink rapidly as a whole lexicon's worth of animals flashed before my minds eye. The thought flashed into my mind - 'Perhaps this is some kind of virtual reality?' - but if it was, then shouldn't I know it? Deciding to test the hypothesis I tried to focus on exiting the game, but the only thing I 'exited' was the list of animals. The text still blinked before my eyes, and no matter what I tried - 'Option! Menu! Control-Alt-Delete! Escape! Apple-Q! Abort!' - nothing changed. I swallowed nervously as I considered the possibility that it wasn't a game. It seemed patently ridiculous, but so was the whole situation.

Deciding I might as well play along, I once more focused on 'Spirit Form', and quickly I browsed past the small and the mundane to look at the big beasts. I was awarded with a list of mega-fauna that surprised even me. Not only were the fairly mundane mammoths and orcas there, and iconic beasts of Exalted like Yeddim and Tyrant Lizards, but also a whole slew of creatures I had never seen even in Exalted – massive amorphous slime-creatures, asymmetric fiends with multiple claws and eyes and tentacles, six-legged ant-eaters the size of a bus, and even a beast that bore a disturbing resemblance to a Squiggoth.

With a brief exertion of effort I forced my mind to stay on track and not go off on any tangents as it was wont to do – amazing what a couple of guns pointed your way can do for one's mental discipline - and tried to decide what to pick. Normally, I leaned toward the quirky or interesting, but with a rather pressing threat of violence I decided that something with a bit more punch to it would be necessary. And for brute, raw power, there was only one choice that would suffice, the true, the tried, the tested; the Tyrant Lizard, T-Rex's bigger, meaner analogue from Exalted. For the Tell – the quirky little side effect of my non-human True Form – I selected something that everyone familiar with Jurassic Park would recognize.

I chuckled slightly to myself, but immediately stopped. There was something eerily hollow and unreal about the sound – and while I wasn't all that bothered, it made the armed people pointing guns at me nervous, as proven by the way their guns twitched back up in my direction. Thankfully, the shaman merely shook his head, apparently signaling for them to stand down. I swallowed nervously as the next text flared across my vision.

**Divide four dots across your Attributes;  
Select two Favored Attributes.**

'… The hell?'

I was, once more, confused – I should have been selecting primary, secondary and tertiary, not splitting four measly dots across them all. Focusing on the mental attributes I discovered the why; I already had a bunch of dots divided across my Attributes. Which meant that I was being elevated from "Heroic Mortal" to "Exalt", rather than being created from scratch.

That was… Good and bad, but mostly bad since it probably meant that I wouldn't have any bonus points. Or did it? Crossing my fingers I focused on bonus points, but for several moments nothing happened. I winced – naturally, the one time it actually could mean life or death! Sighing, I quickly split up the dots I had, raising my Intelligence and Appearance to five – the human maximum. The important part was the Appearance; it would allow me to take advantage of the Exalted Social Combat system, especially when combined with a pair of very basic and utterly devastating Charms...

I marked Stamina and Wits as my Favored Attributes, while silently wondering who – or what – had selected the Attributes I already had. Before I could speculate much further than that, however, the men with guns distracted me from my musings by talking to each other. Say what you want about firearms, but they do have a wonderful way of making people pay attention.

"So are we just going to stand here and stare at a naked guy or what?" One of the thugs muttered, frowning at my sky-clad self. I would have retorted something witty, but between my distracted state and the aforementioned firearms I managed to hold my tongue. That, and I was pre-empted by my erstwhile summoner.

"I told you it hadn't stabilized yet!" The wannabe-medicine man ground out, looking rather fatigued. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who noticed since one of the thugs turned to him with what might, if you tried really hard, be considered concern.

"You don't look too good man, should we-" the guard to the right gestured toward me with his gun only for the shaman to shake his head.

"No, not yet - its... Different somehow, it might actually be useful." He winced as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "If it doesn't finish stabilizing soon however..." He let the statement trail off ominously - well; to me it was ominous at least. I was not very used to death threats outside of friendly teasing, and definitely not involving - in any fashion - real, honest-to-goodness firearms.

As the text before my eyes changed I decided that I should probably pick up the pace – hopefully there would be plenty of time to think, later on.

**Divide two dots across your Abilities:**  
**Select one favored Ability (not Survival)**

I winced as I saw my stats. On one hand, the general spread was very good – about the only things I didn't have a single dot in was Awareness and Dodge. Unfortunately, those were two of the most important Abilities overall, and it also meant that the Abilities I had more than a single dot of could be counted on one hand. Thankfully, one of them was Martial Arts, and apparently I already had both Occult and Survival as favoured. I frowned as I considered my choices, before placing one dot each in Awareness and Dodge, while marking Martial Arts as my favoured ability. It wasn't much of a consolation that I got one extra favoured Ability rather than eighteen or twenty-one bonus points, but it was something at least.

**Select eight Charms and Knacks, minimum four Charms from Favored Attributes and one Knack**

The choices were simpler than they might have been otherwise. The Third Excellency – AKA "Essence Resurgent" – for Stamina and two Ox-Body Techniques makes me more than twice as hard to kill, and Bruise-Relief Method amounted to instant healing of non-lethal wounds. Perfect Symmetry and the Third Appearance Excellency would allow me to dominate in any social context, and finally Meerkat Alertness Practice would help me get the initiative in any form of combat, social or not. It wasn't the optimal build, unfortunately, but it should keep me alive long enough to compensate. The text flashed in confirmation of my choices, before offering me to choose my Great Curse.

_'Fuck.'_

The Great Curse, for those who do not recognise it, is a curse cast upon the Exalted by the Primordials who were slain during the Primordial War. Despite the cool-sounding name, it is anything but cool – it causes a psychotic episode that manifests either as a particular virtue taken to the extreme or, inversely, completely ignored. In my case, Conviction was apparently my single greatest virtue – a bit of a surprise, I tend to think of myself as more Compassionate than anything else – which meant that my choice was limited to either fanatic selfishness or just plain fanaticism. Yay for being a Lunar. It wasn't really a choice I wanted to make – I'd rather have gone with asceticism (Temperance) or pro-active pacifism (Compassion) – but frankly, selfish fanaticism was less dangerous. Considering the sort of power Celestial Exalts can possess, "plain fanaticism" could easily end up with me doing things that would make Pol Pot look like a saint. Thus, I quickly selected the Curse of the Heartless Weasel, causing the words to flash once more. However, the new message confused me.

**18 Bonus Points remaining.**

Apparently, I did have bonus points. However, that didn't make much sense – why hadn't I been able to access them before? Grumbling to myself about the stupid interface... System... Whatever, I quickly raised my Willpower to ten. It was both one of the most important stats, as well as one of the most cost-effective uses of bonus points relative to the equivalent value of experience points. The same went for my Conviction, which I raised to five. This left me with eleven points and at something of a loss as to what I should spend them on. Noticing the sweat dripping down the wannabe-medicine man's face, I decided to finish things off quickly. I was painfully aware of the constant mutters of the thugs.

Closing my eyes I focused on Merits and Flaws, and breathed a small sigh of relief when I was rewarded with a list virtually identical to the one that appeared in the Scroll of Heroes. I began to scroll through it, but got no further than the third physical merit before grinding to a halt and going back one step. I felt a grin spreading across my face – Double-Jointed was available, in all of its unedited glory. Double-Jointed is a brilliant example of why proof-reading is important; a mere three-point merit that makes you a literal rubber man, the clumsy formulation means that the three-dot bonus appears universally to _all_ Dexterity, Larceny and Athletics-based rolls. For reference, two dots is the human average, with five dots being the limit of natural human ability, and Dexterity is the Attribute used both to hit enemies and evade attacks. There was literally no reason what so ever for me not to take it, as it not only provided an insanely cheap boost but would also allow me to bypass the normal Attribute limits.

That left me with eight points, and while I was tempted to go for Danger Sense to warn me against attacks, there were Charms with essentially identical effects that I would more-or-less be forced to learn, sooner or later. I moved past the merits – idly noting that background merits were unavailable, much like the backgrounds themselves seemed to be - and on to flaws. Two Oaths later – never to have sex outside of marriage and to spend one hour per day in meditation, neither of which was a burden as far as I was concerned – I had sixteen points to work with. I was about to start spending them on raising my Attributes when a sudden thought struck me; could I take mutations? Focusing on that I was delighted to be rewarded with an extensive list of available mutations, including everything from the core book to the odds and ends from the Compasses of Terrestrial and Celestial Directions. First up was Hideous Maw for my Spirit Form, increasing the bite to match the bark, follower by Natural Missile, giving it the ability to use the "bite" at range by spitting fire. Armoured Hide was also applied, boosting the form's physical toughness quite a bit - and it wasn't as if an inch or two of bone plating changed its appearance overly much. That used up ten points, leaving me with six points, just enough for the pièce de résistance;

A pair of massive, bat-like wings.

With a sigh of contentment, I took in the mental image of my Spirit Form. It was, in one word, _perfect_. Noting that I had no points left, I briefly considered whether to take any negative mutations. Unfortunately, most of them were truly negative – but quickly weighing my options I took the Hungry deficiency – increasing my daily need of sustenance by 25% - and used the point thus gained on making my human True Form Large. No sooner had I though "done" than the words-

**Character Creation Complete.**

-Flashed before my eyes, before fading completely, leaving my sight unimpeded for the first time since I had arrived in this place. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, before literally _exploding_ with sensation. My bones creaked as I gained a foot in height, tendons and ligaments twitched as my every joint became inhumanely flexible. My skin turned bright red and split as great bony scales formed all over my naked body. My face felt as though it was on fire as my jaws transformed into a snout filled with razor-sharp teeth and then it _was_ on fire as I belched out a gout of flame. Still, I barely noticed, because I was in the middle of Enlightenment. Distantly, I noted the changes to my own body and the reaction of the thugs around me.

"Woah!" One of the thugs behind the shaman said. "What the hell?" None of the other men responded, but they all raised their weapons, aiming at me. However, I didn't care much at all. After all, I felt the essence flowing through my body, as clearly as I could feel my heart beating in my chest. I could sense my personal reservoir of power, a pool of raw power greater than anything I had ever felt before, a blazing furnace - until I reached out and felt the invisible nimbus of my anima, holding more than twice as many motes and exponentially more power altogether. My thoughts blitzed in a dozen directions at once, faster than ever before, and I absently noted that I knew how to perform the charms I had selected; not just "do stuff with essence", that was about as descriptive as saying that martial arts involves "moving the body", but how to channel two motes within a heartbeat of each other through the Brow Chakra and the Root Chakra in order to increase my alertness. Or how to circle four motes between the Heart Chakra and the Throat Chakra to make myself more convincing. Or how to clench my jaw muscles just so to spit out a mouthful of burning saliva...

'Oh, right, mutations that apply to True Forms apply to all True Forms.' I realised my mistake with a wince even as I marvelled over my awareness of… Everything. It was as though I could breathe for the first time in my life. I felt the flow of the world around me, felt the essence moving and shifting, and immediately knew that following my Oaths would be no trouble at all. I could probably spend the rest of eternity just immersing myself in my surroundings. A sudden shift in flow between myself and the people around me caused me to react instinctively, channelling a pair of motes – and indeed, I could distinctly tell that there were two "bundles" of energy – and immediately felt my focus being drawn to the shaman in front of me, as though everything was moving in slow motion.

Huh. So that's what Meerkat Alertness Practice felt like. Well, waste not want not – there would be plenty of time to consider the ramifications of my impetuousness later.

"Why have you summoned me… Mortal?" I demanded, channelling a grand total of eight motes from my personal pool into invoking what I assumed to be Perfect Symmetry and Appearance Essence Resurgent. I felt myself straightening from an almost imperceptible slouch, my scales gleaming in the candlelight as I gazed down imperiously; even my voice rang out with clarity and power. Together, the passive allure and the brief burst of supernaturally enhanced charm made it effectively impossible for them to resist my not-so-humble request.

"I- uh," the man swallowed nervously, "I was merely practicing my summoning, er… Planar tasking. We need someone dead." Something about the 'planar tasking' made the bells from earlier ring even louder than before, but I still couldn't place it and so shrugged it off. Clearly, he hadn't been counting on summoning something so obviously supernatural – or perhaps he was simply caught off-guard after spending, what? Perhaps ten, fifteen minutes? Staring at my formerly human body. Whatever the case, I narrowed my eyes before raising one inquisitive eyebrow.

"Is that so?" He nodded rapidly, as though his very life depended on it. That my voice came out as a low growl might have had something to do with it. "Hm. I believe you." He looked very relieved at that. "Where am I?" I asked, partly from curiosity, partly just to keep the initiative in the conversation.

"Chicago, the United States of America, Earth." He must have taken my shock for confusion, because he helpfully added; "We're currently on one of the material planes."

Chicago. One of the material planes. Need someone dead. Planar tasking. Summoned.

Recreating myself as a character according to an RPG system.

I felt my eye twitch violently.

_I was reliving a freaking fanfic! A _self-insert_ fanfic! I was a self-insert in a self-insert!_

With an effort of will I suppressed my confusion, deciding I could deal with the implications and psychotic breakdown into hysterics later, perhaps when I wasn't facing three submachine guns and a magic-user on their home ground, underneath what was most likely the headquarters or at least a base of organised crime.

"Obviously," I sneered – and let me tell you, a draconic snout lets you pull off a rather impressive sneer, "it's one of the material planes. I'm familiar with Earth – it's a... Human-dominated world, no?" What do you know, I too could spew out bullshit. Must be a side-effect of the Charms - I'm usually much better at partial truths and blatant lies than fast-talking.

"Ah, yeah, it is." The shaman replied, his voice still nervous. The gunmen were still pointing their guns at me, not that I could blame them really, but neither was I going to chance my brand new armoured hide against 9mm bullets or whatever calibre those things were.

"That leaves me with a conundrum," I added in a drawl, crossing my arms across my chest with a gentle hiss of scales rubbing against scales. "Unless you can send me back home…" I let the statement trail off suggestively, but did not have much hope – and what little I had died a swift and merciless death as the magician shook his head in the negative.

"I… Have no idea how I summoned you in the first place, much less where from." He admitted, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. "I wouldn't even know where to begin." His voice faltered slightly as I allowed myself a hissing sigh of displeasure.

"At least you are smart enough to be honest." I paused, thinking over my options for a moment. From what I remembered of the original story, the people around me were part of one of three factions of organised crime. They were most likely murderers, at the very least accomplices as he had already admitted to attempting to summon an assassin… Just like in the original story. In the original, my… Predecessor? It was as good a word as any; my predecessor bluffed his way out, based on the – correct – assumption that he could not – at the time - defeat three thugs with weapons designed for close-quarter combat, much less when they were backed up by a spellcaster. I, on the other hand, was not a mere first-level D&D character; I was a mint-fresh Celestial Exalt. Three Extras and a Sorcerer just after a major ritual should be a cakewalk…

… If they really were Extras, and if the summoner was using Sorcery – which was, in and of itself, unlikely to say the least. And assuming that firearms were only about as effective as I was used to them being, and not cranked up to eleven. And that they were actually operating on the same rules as I was, and not d20 or GURPS or something completely weird, like _reality_. I forcibly reminded myself that I couldn't allow myself to make any assumptions. Assuming _anything_ could only end badly, very badly – most likely for me.

That left me with three options; to play along and re-enact the original story, taking down my escort in the corridor and making my escape. The other option would be to bluff my way out completely; I might just be able to pull it off… But it would be risky. The third option was to kill them all. I was fairly certain that I could do it easily by using my Tyrant form. The problem was that I had absolutely no experience of being fifteen-plus meters of winged, fire-breathing lizard, and more troublesome, it would barely be enough room for me between the ceiling and the floor, let alone from wall to wall what with all the pillars in the way.

The choice was however fairly obvious – I may have considered myself compassionate, but here's the thing; I'd kill one man to save ten. I'd kill a thousand to save a million. And I would kill four hardened criminals to save an unknown number of innocents.

"I guess I'm going to have to build myself a new home here." I said with a sigh, before pretending to wince while flexing my wings. "Mind if I stretch out a bit?"

"Uhm-" I didn't wait for the criminals' brains to catch up but began the change immediately, channelling a single mote from my anima to do so. This caused the invisible nimbus to shift over my forehead, most likely signalling the appearance of my caste mark. I made a note to confirm my caste – or more likely, lack there-of – later, because I was currently busy cataloguing the feeling of my body transforming for the first time.

How to describe it? It was a bit like yawning, except that I just continued stretching, and vaguely disconcerting as I felt my legs turn digitigrade and my torso tilt forward even as I sprouted a tail for counterbalance. All around me, the room was rapidly shrinking, and I realised that I had underestimated my Spirit Form's size as I bowled over the shaman and thugs before me, unintentionally crushing them into the floor with a series of sickening crunches Their shouts of surprise turned into screams of fear and then into whimpers of pain, as snapping bones and wet squelches joined in with the grinding of scales against concrete. The one gunman standing to the side did not fare much better as he was bowled over by my right wing hitting him with the force and impact of a small car. Still I kept growing, until I was effectively pinned in place. My stomach was pressed flat against the floor and my back was showered with broken glass from the fixtures I had crushed against the ceiling. My head pressed against the wall in front of me, my tail was bent up against the wall behind me, and my wings were all bundled up like a pair of giant leathery circus tents stowed away by my sides.

Blinking in surprise I released the motes I had been preparing for another Meerkat Alertness Technique and breathed a sigh of relief. That… Had not gone according to plan, but as things worked out anyway – for me at least – I wasn't about to complain. Twisting my neck around some more and silently marvelling over how flexible I was, I couldn't hold back a wince as I saw the growing puddle of red from under my chest. Hearing a groan from my right I tried to lift my wing, but I couldn't move it enough to let me see the last gunman so I let it drop – which brought a sudden end to the groans. Apparently, the unlucky bastard was lying under the massive limb.

Briefly debating what to do next, I tried to shift around and was awarded with the sound of crumbling concrete and more squelches as I ground the remains of my summoner into the floor. Freezing in place, I realised that big as I was, even I would probably have a hard time if I brought the house down on top of me. Along with that conclusion came the realisation that I didn't really need my combat form anymore, and with the expenditure of another mote I shifted back to my "human" self.

A few seconds of compression - which felt even more weird than growing - later I was once more standing on my two feet in the remains of the summoning circle. The summoner and his bodyguards were little more than piles of mangled flesh and broken bones. I shuddered at the sight, and even more as I realised that a large amount of gore still clung to my chest. Turning toward the fourth man I was a bit surprised to see that, while bruised and battered, he was still live and breathing. For a moment I considered letting him live, but practicality won out – I didn't have the skills nor the stomach to interrogate him, and letting him go back to warn the mob about what had happened was just asking for trouble. In a curiously detached state, I walked up to the man, taking careful note of his appearance. He was tall – not as tall as my current form, but probably half a head taller than my old self – and heavily built. Not the bulging muscles of a body-builder or the bulk of a fat slob, but the sturdy frame of someone who worked had and enjoyed life. His breathing was light and shallow, and the way his limbs contorted I was fairly certain that he'd broken at least both arms and one leg. His clothes – black slacks and a white button-up shirt – were dirty and ruffled, but still reminded me of my own naked state. His short-cut brown hair was matted with blood, probably from having his head slammed into the wall, and his face was… Relaxed. He was average looking, a strong jaw, wide mouth, a slightly big nose and eyes just a bit too small for his face, but he seemed almost peaceful as he lay there unconscious on the ground. Part of me rebelled against what I was about to do, but I reminded myself of the earlier conversations – he had been the one suggesting that I was a failure, and while I didn't particularly care about his opinion, the way he'd fingered his gun while saying it had been very suggestive. There was also the fact that he'd said "another" failure, which probably meant that they had summoned other people – and given what the now-dead spell-caster had said, I doubted that they had sent them back. Finally, my summoner had confessed that they were trying to summon something to kill someone – a lawyer who wouldn't take bribes, if my memories of the original story held true.

That alone put him solidly on the "bad" side of the moral scale.

Looking at the man I was reminded of my own non-human appearance, and briefly considered whether I could – or should – take his form, but I didn't have the proper Knacks and I wasn't about to keep him around for a month or more until I could learn it. With a sigh, I realised that I was stalling, and gritting my teeth I decided to finish the job before I could change my mind. Sitting down next to him, I turned him over on his stomach, straddled his back and wrapped my arms around his head and neck. Bracing myself for a moment, I twisted with all my power and was rewarded with a sickening pop and his body tensing before falling slack. Swallowing the bile that was rising in my throat, I tried to feel his pulse.

Nothing.

I checked his breathing as well, but between the lack of pulse and the way his neck bent in a fashion that no living human could endure, it was rather obvious that he was dead.

I realised that I had just made my first kill, against an unconscious and unarmed human at that. Tense like a taught string, I waited for the backlash. Five seconds passed, then fifteen, and after a minute I lost count. I had just killed a man, a defenceless man, and I felt… Nothing at all. I may only have studied the basics of psychology, but that did not speak well for my sanity. Thinking about it, I allowed that it might be a consequence of my Exaltation – not only did I have a mystical super-weapon grafted onto my soul, but my nature – my True Nature – now expressed itself as a pseudo-dragon bigger than a T-Rex. However, that explanation smacked of a poor excuse… Feeling the gorge rise in my throat, I realised that I felt sick – not because I killed a man, but because of what my not feeling anything about killing him said about me. I was feeling sick because I wasn't feeling sick.

The irony washed over my soul and out of my mouth as a semi-hysterical laughter. Looking at the gore that used to be three people until I _accidentally_ mashed them to a pulp before I could _intentionally_ kill them, I broke down completely, rolling on the floor and clutching my stomach as I literally roared with laughter. There was absolutely nothing funny about the whole thing but I just couldn't stop laughing.

An unknown amount of time later, once I had finally calmed down and wiped away the tears that had started falling, I took stock of my situation:

Bad news; I was stranded in what was almost indubitably a completely different reality.

Good news; the process that brought me here also gave me superpowers – superpowers I was very familiar with, and apparently in complete control over - to a certain extent, at least.

Bad news; in the process of "installing" those powers, I screwed up and accidentally turned myself into something very obviously non-human.

Bad news; the ritual that brought me here was performed by elements of organised crime with mystical ties.

Good news; I had killed the elements that had summoned me, without suffering any damage.

Bad news; killing them probably meant that I had pissed off at least one of three criminal factions that ruled the city, and left me in a basement along with four dead bodies – which was not conducive toward good relations with the legal side of the equation, even if I could get around the fact that was barely even humanoid, let alone human.

To summarize; like my predecessor, I needed a plan.

The original story featured the protagonist pulling off a one-man war against the magical mob, but he was literally operating under different rules. Unlike the level-based experience system he fought under, the point-based system I was subject to had a little something called "training time". Even if I figured out how to gain experience, or even if I could ignore the whole "experience" thing altogether and just practice, I'd still be stuck spending weeks or months improving my powers. The advantage that I wasn't dependent on fighting or "role-playing" for experience the way he was did little to console me given that the experience for "downtime" would give me approximately one Charm _per year_.

Sure, I _could_ wait things out - effective immortality does wonder for your perspective - but was I willing to just lounge about doing nothing? I had one of the most powerful weapons in existence under my control, I had the power and ability to do a difference, the sort of thing I had always dreamt about... Was I going to sit tight just because it would be "safer"?

'Oh Hell No.'

However, before I could go out and change the world there were things I needed to know; things like confirming what kind of world I was in. Was it a perfect analogue of my own world? Not hardly, given that I was summoned here, but how far did the mystic 'taint' go? Rare and unknown? A mage in every major city? A werewolf on every block? Also, what kind of system were they using? A derivative of d20, like in the original story? If so, how did that interact with my own White Wolf-based system? Thinking of White Wolf, another thought struck me and I felt the blood drain from my face. I might be in a World of Darkness. The more I thought about it, the more it fit; my predecessor operated on d20, so the world around him worked on "d20 Modern". I was using a White Wolf system, so the world around me would be using a White Wolf system. If so, I was in deep dodo – I was more familiar with "classic" World of Darkness, which meant I was facing multiple worldwide conspiracies and most likely Armageddon within a decade - nowhere near enough time to gain the sort of power it would take to save an entire world. If it was the "new" World of Darkness, I had a different problem; I only had a passing familiarity with the various factions. On the other hand, that setting was supposed to be less GrimDark... But either way, I couldn't plan anything until I knew, with some measure of certainty, what I was supposed to be planning for.

The matter wasn't helped any by the fact that I would have a hard time going outside without drawing attention – most of it bad. What I needed was time… But to get that I needed the ability to move freely. The best option would be to perform a Sacred Hunt on a couple of pets, but how would I manage it without being discovered?

I'd rather not have every yahoo and would-be dragon slayer after my skin, thank you very much.

As if reacting to my thoughts of Hunting, my stomach roared out its own demands. It had been quite some time since I had eaten, and between using so much essence and the Hungry flaw I was actually starting to feel it. Throwing a curious glance toward the dead bodies – which, between voided bowels and ruptured guts were really beginning to stink – I shook my head. I might not have felt much about killing them, but I wasn't quite hungry enough to begin eating people.

Not yet, at least.

With my stomach spurring me on, I decided to get a move on. I had no idea if or when someone would investigate, and it would be in my best interest to be far away when they did. Either way, the sooner I got around to locating a suitable target, the sooner I could Hunt. The sooner I could Hunt, the sooner I could go into hiding and relax. Looting the bodies netted me four sets of keys, four wallets with varying amounts of cash, and hands that were in urgent need of washing after digging through the gory remains. Cursing myself for not taking the fourth man's pants while they were still relatively clean, I grabbed his shirt and used it as an improvised bag. I'd need find, buy or most likely make something for myself to wear; between my size, my scales and my wings, the average trench-coat just wouldn't cut it.

My grisly work done, I opened the only door and found myself face to face with another pair of goons. Three things happened simultaneously: first of all, I cursed my luck with as much vehemence as I could fit into a single moment of thought. Second, I used up the two motes of personal essence that I had apparently regained since I arrived to activate Meerkat Alertness Practice again. Finally, I took in the words that flashed across my vision:

_**+5 Experience Points**_

* * *

**AN:** So, there you have it folks. Since this is my first fic I'm publishing here on FFN, I look forward to seeing your opinions. Once more, I'd like to thank LordsFire for his permission, as without it I would have continued to flounder about without any good ideas on how to get started on proper fic-writing.


	2. AN

A/N: So, the inspiration for this fic is seriously slow in coming. I'm rewriting the basic concept into something a little easier to work with - and also a touch closer to heart. This means that the Hero, who will be a Heroic Solar Sorcerer rather than Lunatic Lunar Killing Machine, and the Setting will have more GrimDark (as best possible within the new guidelines... So nothing to explicit, I guess).

The rewrite will be up within the week, so keep an eye out!

I am not abandoning this fic - merely putting it on an indefinite hiatus. I will provide updates if and when I complete more chapters (ch02 is maybe 50% done), but I guarantee nothing.


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